


They Keep You Far From Me

by beautlilies



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: After Breaking Dawn, F/M, No Beta, You are welcome, and god damn it they want to fuck in peace, and i do as i am told, and i promised, and it's been a long time, because i am weak, because the thots asked, because they deserve it, i am being rushed, i wrote it for you, jalice on vacation, lilia you can cross the idea off your list, miriam i will hold you to your promise, not editing, or else i'll come after you, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27576281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautlilies/pseuds/beautlilies
Summary: It's the first time they can go on vacation in years.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	They Keep You Far From Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tragicallywicked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragicallywicked/gifts), [irrelevanttous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrelevanttous/gifts).



It has never been met with enthusiasm.

Not even before they had left. There had always been an element of uncertainty. A delayed honeymoon for them. A honeymoon cut short as a compromise. All small ventures the two sporadically take met with worried phone calls and judgemental lectures from Edward. It frustrated them, the inability to spontaneously travel to Salem in 1974 or to linger in Philadelphia in 1996. It has only gotten worse over the years.

Alice aches at this. It is ever present, an undiluted well of pollution to her river of sunshine and happiness. It has been years only in technicalities and the fear is still there in all of them. In many ways, she knows that she is the rock of the family, the only thing that has kept them alive and together for so many years with her beloved as subsequent. Even before the rapid and unprecedented expansion of the family, the wariness of Jasper far removed from the network he has built himself was felt. Still, they need this.

“It’ll be for a week,” she says again. Her hands hold on tightly to Esme’s delicate ones. “I will call every day.”

“Be careful,” Esme says, not for the last time they are on this trip. “Don’t bring too much attention to yourselves.”

Jasper squeezes Esme. He knows she loves it, knows that it means something different to her when it’s  _ him  _ to initiate it. He likes to give her these small things, likes to show her how much he loves her as often as he can. He kisses her cheek, too. “We’ll go unnoticed. I promise. We’ll only go into smaller cities to buy some souvenirs.”

She waves a hand. “We don’t care about that.” Jasper knows she means it, too.

“We’ll call when we land,” Alice reminds them. They give another round of good-byes. Another round of hugs and promises they will not allow themselves to break before they leave for the airport. It is unnecessary, an extra few steps in a process that should not be in the equation, but they  _ need _ time to be themselves: to just  _ be. _ If pretending to be human in an airport gives them extra time for that, he’s going to do it happily.

It’s not as bad as he anticipated. Alice holds onto his hand, not for the safety of those around him but simply because she wants to. She thinks of everything for them - TSA pre-check-in, first class seats, a departing flight at half past two in the morning. There’s no interruptions for them, soft conversations in the dark. Alice leans on him. She distracts him. She keeps him occupied. He finds that he likes plane rides with Alice.

It continues as such when the plane begins to spark to life towards the second half of the trip. Alice watches a movie with him, and then after she lets him discuss every reason he has to not like it and why he found it predictable. He likes how much it amuses her, his rants about predictability, and he finds that he will find a way to come up with more ironic and irrational rantings just to see her little smile as she listens to him. And when they land, he holds onto her, wraps his arms around her tiny frame while they wait for their luggage. She is happy, a type of happiness he hasn’t felt since they first found peace and structure with their family, and he wants to live in this moment forever.

They stay in the Scottish country. Alice had told him once in 1949 how she wished to travel all over Europe, and he’s sworn to himself that he will give her that. It is hard and it makes him uneasy now, but he still gives her this wish every few decades, done as discreetly as possible. She’s bursting with excitement as he drives them to the small cottage he’s prepared in advance - a purchase he’s sure she’s seen, and while he may not be able to take whisk her away here as much as he would like, he likes the idea of it - and Jasper in turn is bursting at the seams. By the time they arrive, the two of them are giggling and choose to forget the luggage in the car.

The rooms are small. She loves it, even more. She flies around each small section of their new cottage. Antique fixtures and original architecture. Furniture meticulously picked out according to her likes and her whims and the current state of the industry. She dances across the smaller bedroom, the one he’s made the nook - him to read and her to draw, sew, or rest in his lap. She loves the big windows and the collection of vinyl records he has organized. He smiles with each of her ramblings, with each gasp as her eyes settle on another detail she missed.

And when they get to the larger of the rooms, she repeats the process. He’s there when she throws herself into his arms, the softest smile on her face and the most loving feeling in her heart. She thanks him in millions of ways, reminds him an infinite amount of times that she  _ loves  _ him - always has and always will. He kisses her then, to  _ thank her _ , because she’s more than he could ever dream of and sometimes he thinks she doesn’t really understand that. And she giggles when she pulls away, right before the phone rings and she’s off to grab her purse from the car. He can hear Esme on the other end, the relief in her voice when Alice starts rambling about the flight and the Scottish countryside.

He unloads the car. Speaks to Esme when she asks for him. Jokes with Emmett and is reminded of his promise to try sheep. Alice yells at him not to and it only encourages Emmett more. Rosalie asks about what they’ve seen so far and what they plan to see. Edward is happy that they’ve been undetected and Bella is happy that Alice promises to bring back something she would like. Renesmee rambles the most, and they both listen with soft smiles as she explains that Edward has confiscated her library card because she read a novel meant for adults and not for four year olds. She tells them that Carlisle instructed her to give his warmest regards and at that she laughs because it is something they say in the new show she is watching. They promise to call tomorrow, Alice promising to  _ FaceTime  _ when she shops for them before they hang up.

In the silence that follows, Alice reaches for him. He is only inches away, on the other edge of this oversized mattress he knew she would love, but she reaches anyways. He settles himself next to her, leaning on a pillow so he can watch the small changes in her expression. It’s his favorite things to do when it’s just them - study her, commit her to memory so he will always have her in some capacity. If he’s feeling brave, like he won’t ruin the careful craftsmanship of her features, he’ll let his finger trace over her lips, her eyebrows, the tip of her nose. Maybe, he thinks, maybe he should. 

“Hi,” Alice breathes. She keeps her eyes closed, her lips the slightest bit upturned. He wonders, not for the first time, what she would look like blushing. 

“Hi,” he murmurs. “Falling asleep on me?”

Jasper looks for the slight purse of her lips as she fights back the laughter bubbling inside of her, and he finds it almost immediately. He likes when he can get her to make that expression, still likes that he’s the only one that can successfully pull it from her. He likes it even more when her eyes open and she gives him a real smile.

“Unfortunately,” she tells him. “You can be quite boring.”

He pinches her side. “How can I remedy that?”

“Let’s go skydiving.”

At his expression, she laughs. “I’m kidding,” she reassures. “I just want this.”

“Are you sure? I could think of a few ways to remedy your boredom?”

Jasper gives her several seconds to flick through an endless sea of vision. 

“ _ Oh _ .”

At this, he laughs.

She takes him by surprise - not for the first time today and not for the last time. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to stop the way his heart flutters because damn it, just about anything Alice does makes his heart flutter and all rational thought leaves him, and he’s not sure he wants it to ever stop. He likes the way her smile takes over her face as she leans over him, giggling and teasing as he settles against the pillows. She sits on his chest as if it’s the one spot on the planet made for her, and Jasper isn’t sure if she’d believe him if he told her it was.

“You should have just said so,” she chides in that tone she saves just for him, the one that’s not scolding and all playful full of giddy contemptment. 

“My apologies,” he gives her that one smile that makes her blush, makes her lips purse in that way he loves so much. “How can I make it up to you?”

Alice shushes him gently. Her hands are gentle as she leans in, her lips soft and insistent against his own. He has always been in tune with her and the slightest flicker of her emotions, understands what she means to say with every action and reaction. He can feel it, how desperate she is to kiss him as she pleases. How content she is with this trip, with every moment she’s allowed to spend with him. It hurts how much she’s  _ missed  _ him and how much she’s  _ missed  _ just  _ being _ , and Jasper can’t help but acknowledge it all, let her know that he needs this just as much, that he has missed her just as much - that he  _ loves  _ her just as much.

His hands will always look inhumanely large against her. He likes how the rough and raised skin of his scar makes her shiver each time, likes how he can feel her muscles tensing and hear her breath catch in her throat. Her shirt, a frill thing of white cotton and memories of each night they snuck away and wandered around a new town, catches on his wrists as his fingers keep skimming - the skin of her back, the fabric of her bra, the four beauty marks speckled across her chest. And he listens to each gasp, waits to feel her muscles contract and her breath to  _ finally  _ be released in a soft, shuttering moan that sends him spiraling. It keeps him motivated, keeps him from listening to his inner turmoil, his worst fears that he’s ruining  _ her  _ \- her disposition, her beauty, her grace. 

It’s when there is nowhere left for his hands does her shirt come off. She’s quick to spread her thin fingers against the span of his chest, tugging on the fabric of his shirt until the slightest tear forms. She won’t beg - not verbally, at least. But she is not above tearing his clothes, has never been and will never be over tearing off any worthless piece of cloth she has designed specifically with him in mind. He thinks he should give in and follow the many whims and flows of Alice, but decides against it when she whines prettily in his ear.

“Come  _ on _ ,” she breathes and he delights in her frustration, in her impatience. “We have time for that later.”

“We have time for it now,” he reminds, and he decides now is the perfect time to sit up, an arm wrapped around her waist and his lips pressed to her collarbones, frail and delicate and oh so strong in the daylight. “Relax, Alice. There’s no rush for anything right now.”

Maybe it’s not what she wants to hear but they need to hear it. They need to remind themselves.

“And if that’s not what I want?”

“I did give you my word to give you everything you want in this life.”

“Charming,” she tells him. “Will you please fuck me now?”

Jasper breathes his laugh into the crook of her shoulder. “Not yet.”

There it is - that pout, the frown and the agitation written in her features, in the way her shoulders sag and her nails tug at his hair just a bit more, a bit harder to encourage him, to make him feel just as insane with want and need as she does right now. She’s insistent as always, trying to hold herself together long enough to do as he pleases, to go with the pace he’s trying so desperately to set for them. They have all the time in the world - except, not really, Esme will call by the end of the night and they’re expected back in Maine by the time the clock strikes midnight a week from now - and he wants to show her how much he misses her, how much he really just needs this time for the two of them - to not be rushed, to not be quiet in the heart of some abandon woods, distracted by visions of a darling child panicking or a brother anxiously pacing the family home. It’s just them, even when the prophetic bubbles that burst in her mind at the worst moments, it’s still just them. It’s just them in this absurdly huge bed, in the flickers in her head of souvenir shopping and dancing on the rooftops of ancient cathedrals. 

“Jazz,” she says, and he can feel how short her patience is getting, how her nerves are on fire and how desperately she yearns for him. “Jazz, please.”

She says this and this time he knows he cannot resist her. Not this time. Maybe in an hour or so, because she’s too wound up to allow him to draw it out. And he knows that when she’s like this, he’s never forgotten, every muscle and every rise and fall of her hips designed to bring him so much closer to that edge than he never thinks is possible despite how often she’s proven it to him. 

He kisses her, soft and gentle. The taste of his compliance in each gentle swipe of his tongue, the little laugh he gives as she whines again and again and again, desperate and pleading and Jasper can feel the brink of her insanity at the tips of his fingers. Can hear each and every profane thought he muffles with his lips. “Lay down for me,” he tells her, finally, and Alice is eager to fall back, trusting in him to never let her do anything the slightest bit reckless without him to catch her. And he does, cradling her head just before she lands on the pillowtop, as unnecessary as it is. She laughs at this and it thrills him.

“Think you can give me this,” he’s barely a centimeter away from her lips, swollen and red and just the slightest bit parted. He likes how she squirms, how her breath fans out across his face with each word he murmurs. She’s nearly trembling, and he knows that she will allow him this. “Are you going to let me touch you?”

“Yes,” and she’s gasping when his hands finally dip between her legs, his lips here and there - her cheek, the hollow of her throat, the shell of her ear. It’s not much, but the way his fingers dance across the waistband of the frail thing she calls underwear, sheer and thinner than a sheet of paper, has her mewling small pathetic sounds of his name, broken into fragile syllables that keeps him in this state, the closest he can ever have to drug induced lucidity, euphoric sensations that he loves to send back to her almost as much as he loves the way his name sounds from her lips.

Even still, giving her this small inkling of hope, Jasper cannot resist the urge to tease her, still. She should expect it, his loving wife that knows the nuance of his soul and each minute tick that sets his world alight, that knows his decisions before he could ever anticipate having to make them, but she doesn’t - she  _ never  _ does. Not when the visions are the most bearable in his presence. Not when she’s most at peace just by being in the same room as him. Not when she can pretend that the fate of so many people depends on someone else, someone who just bears a striking resemblance to her and she can explore the latest trends in thousands of different cities with her lover by her side, an easy smile on his lips and laughter hanging in the air. And at his teasing, her back arches and she groans something truly impatient and truly annoyed with him and his constant love to have her on the edge of something tumultuous and grand and intoxicating all at once.

He kisses her once more, a small peck he gives before sliding down the length of her body, his hands moving across the delicate dips and dainty valleys. He’s explored each avenue, memorized every lane and every landmark with the precision and dedication of the most acclaimed scholars. And still, the thrill never leaves him. She’s made for him, every nook and every cranny is meant for him to kiss, to know and to taste. He never tires of how her breath grows rapid and unsteady when his fingers toy with the rosiness of her nipples, the pout of her lip, just under her navel. He never tires of how the sounds she makes as he slides off her underwear, because even after all this time Jasper can’t help but draw out as much of this as time will allow, how he hovers over her just as he does now, warm breath and deep inhales of every scent that culminates  _ her _ . 

“Please,” and she’s so desperate, Jasper thinks she will cry if the nature of their bodies allowed for it. “Please I can’t -”

Jasper shushes her with a kiss. She’s loud in her relief, her legs wrapping around his head without thought. Jasper lives for it, lives for the way she sounds with each teasing flick, each angle he implements to give her the most pleasure - his nose bumping her clip, his tongue and the endless waltz of tight circles and experimental flicks. She’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever had, sunshine and light and everything that could ever bring him peace and domestic insanity. He will gladly spend the rest of his eternal life in this moment, with his beloved sighing his name and her legs over his shoulders and her nails in his hair, tugging this way and that.

He complies with her whims. With each arch of her back and squirm of her hips, he’s there, holding her as steady as he can and refusing to move from his position. She’s overstimulated and not stimulated enough - unable to handle the way he lets his fingers toy with her just as his tongue does, unable to convince herself that she can’t handle anymore, that she is over the foreplay and is ready to feel him against her, in her, moving in tandem as they always do. And when she finally gives in, she’s just as grateful and just as thrilled that Jasper knows her, knows her body and how much she wants and needs and where every line she could ever draw is. It is warm, soft waves rushing over her body as he kisses her once, twice, three times to make sure she’s still okay, that she’s still here.

“You still with me,” and the tease that he is presses his lips to her own before she can respond, before she can prepare for the taste of herself lingering on his tongue. She’s not ready for it, not anticipating it and Alice knows Jasper does it on purpose, that he likes how she squirms against him before finally adjusting to the taste, to the way his kisses are the slightest bit more rushed, deeper and all consuming. 

Alice is the first to break the kiss, small hands on the sides of his face. He’s as breathless as he could ever possibly be. His smile is lazy and crooked, his forehead resting against her own. Her body is still alive, burning and simmering against the plush white bedding and the weight of his body just resting against her own, still so careful in their indestructible nature to never hurt her, to never cause her the slightest bit of discomfort. She’s still Alice, and she can never resist the urge to tease him the way that only she can. A hand toying with the button of his jeans. Her teeth lightly scraping the length of his neck, her tongue moving ever so slowly up and down until he physically has to put his hands on her hips and give her that one groan that tells her everything. There’s many different ways she wants to do it, the most appealing is simply wrapping her own hand around him, but Jasper won’t let her, no this time.

He slips in. Gently. And she can’t stop herself from throwing her head back, from clutching at his shoulders. He always checks with her, with each movement of his and each desperate plea from her, Jasper will always check, always make sure that she’s ok. That nothing is uncomfortable or not working. Even if it’s the hundredth time they’ve been in this position that month. Even if he knows very well that she’s more than comfortable, more than ready for him to wrap his hand around her throat and leave his presence all over her body. And when he does it this time, Alice wants to laugh at his predictability. She wants to shush him, roll her hips and be done with it, but it’s not what he needs. Not when his eyes are still wide and desperate, afraid he’s too rough and too volatile for someone of her stature, her nature.

She’s lost in the gentle rocking, the way he moves her legs to slide in as deep as he can. She’s so frail, thin to an extreme that makes his heart drop and his anger flare when he thinks about the millions of scenarios that could have led to this, the hundreds of people working in that insane asylum that let his beloved fall to a dangerous weight, to not care about her outside of a small paycheck and a false sense of security. He hates how much he loves being able to see himself, a bulge that moves steady with his rhythm. It’s the same as when she takes the length of him - as much as she can fit, because no matter how much she tries she’s still incredibly small and he’s incredibly tall and large and built of muscle - inside her mouth, when she’s distracting him in the parking lot of a school or right before they return home from a pretend hunt in the woods, seeking silence and reprieve in only for a few minutes. It’s hypnotic, watching her body react and adjust to him, the sounds she makes when he applies the slightest bit of pressure.

They are not human, not in any true sense. He’s in love with the fact that he never tires. Never needs to stop and rest for hours on end while his lovely wife dances around in the sheerest things known to man. She loves it just as much, enjoys being able to spend actual days in any position, only the briefest of pauses between rounds. When it was just them in the few years it took to find their family, Jasper took advantage of it - having her under him, above him, curled on her side, he didn’t care, he just wanted to enjoy the independence they had, how much they love each other and the eternity he vows for them to spend. It never ceases to amaze him, never makes him take a moment to pause and just thank whoever sent him to Alice for giving him this opportunity of unconditional love and want.

And he wants to keep it at this slow pace he set. Trying so hard to fight against Alice’s moans, her nails catching on his scars and how she so eagerly welcomes each thrust, each roll. She’s intoxicating, dangerously alluring and she knows it, knows how attracted he is to her - her desperation, her wants and needs, all of it. She’s begging now, bringing a hand to her throat, the pressure he applies is always watchful, always careful because even though they don’t need air, he’s smashed too many necks in his lifetime to truly think about losing control in that way. Sometimes, he’ll cradle the side of her head, his thumb against her pretty pink lips until she decides to take that inside, too. Biting ever so gently, scraping her teeth in that way that drives him insane. But she’s desperate and needy and if he’s being honest, he is too. He needs to feel it again, needs to feel that freedom and that feeling of infinite time, an endless clock that will never run out with his darling Alice, to make her laugh and sigh as many times as she allows.

She begs him now, verbal pleas to move faster, harder, deeper. She loves the overstimulation, loves to overwhelm herself until she can’t take it anymore and she’s crying for relief, for Jasper to come and save her from it all. And he does so happily, always grateful and always hypnotized by the way she says his name. How she holds onto him, seeks his body for everything, even when she’s drowning in each wave of her orgasms, a current that takes her further and further away from the responsibilities of the future and the urgent needs of the family. Jasper gives it to her, willingly. Rubs his thumb in tight circles just where she needs it, a surprised cry of his name when his thumb gently presses against her clit, teasing as always. He’s careful to leave bruises on her, always terrified that it’s too much or a reflection to the evil and his tainted soul. But she loves them, is thankful that even as this frozen version of her body, he’s still able to mark her, able to leave evidence that he has explored her body. She’s not sure how it works, and she doesn’t care - not when his lips are working something serious all over her neck, not when she’s trying to dress herself later to disguise them because she knows Jasper is slightly insecure about what others think of their relationship.

And when she finally does fall over that edge, she is clutching anything her small hands can reach. They move as fast as her feet can, from his shoulders to his hair, the soft fabric of the bedspread beneath them. He watches as her eyes squeeze shut, her lips parted ever so slightly. He likes how she’s so overcome with the dual sensations, how she can’t find it in her to vocalize anything but soft gasps. She’s drowning in everything he gives her. In everything he has and everything he is. And it sends him there, too. Her name, the only thing he can ever verbalize, will still be able to know and recite no matter what is done to him. It’s deep and raspy, as it always is when he’s like this, and he knows how attracted she is to when his voice sounds rough and the slightest bit undone. She holds him close and he falters, kisses the sides of his face when he rests his body on her, balancing the majority of his weight on his arms still caging her in. 

There’s a gentle lull. A soft reprieve as the two of them ground themselves back, finding themselves in the midst of finding each other again. He kisses her shoulder, her cheek, her temple before he rolls over. Alice rolls right on top of him, refusing to be even the slightest bit away from him. He doesn’t mind, never does and never will.

“Are you okay,” he asks, just in case. Always scared that he went too far. That he was too rough or too demanding.

Alice rolls her eyes. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He kisses the crown of her head. Alice sits up, shifting just slightly, her expression horrified. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“Esme called. We accidentally answered.”

“Oh  _ no _ .”


End file.
